


ombre de la rue

by SunshineBlueEyesTanlines



Series: le petit monsieur triste [1]
Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Anders is a better mom than Elizabeth, Axl is a dick, Child Abuse, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Young Johnsons, he gets that from his parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineBlueEyesTanlines/pseuds/SunshineBlueEyesTanlines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Your silk scarf</em>
  <br/>
  <em>floating on your shoulders,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>you were so beautiful</em>
  <br/>
  <em>you could have been mistaken for the king.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After being pulled back from the brink of death, Anders is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is not okay and Mike cares more than he wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It pisses me off that nobody cares about Anders, so I'm gonna fuck some shit up.

Axl feels little remorse as he watches Anders shake and whimper, rapidly weakening from the mortal wounds Odin's vessel inflicted upon him. He doesn't think it strange that he feels this way, almost serene as he watches his brother bleed out, because the prick deserves everything he's getting. He has no right to any sort of mercy after he betrayed Axl by sleeping with Gaia.

Anders makes a disturbing gurgling sound, blood spilling from his lips, and Axl takes his leave. Michele will be there any moment with Yggdrasil to help Anders, although he would prefer she just let him drown in his own blood like he is now. The bastard ruined his life, and Axl will be sure to return the favor if he survives.

He only briefly glances at Mike, who watches his youngest brother leave with fear in his eyes. He's terrified that his family is falling apart around him, though he's loath to admit it. He's always been the strong, invincible big brother who never fails to save the day, and he's proud of that, but as he watches Anders grasp helplessly at his open throat, he thinks that he fucked up somewhere along the way.

He startles when he realizes that Michele is there, shouldering rudely past him with Yggdrasil in her hands. He worries that she won't be able to save Anders, who has gone frighteningly still and lost what little color he had, but he trusts her to succeed. He can't imagine Anders dying, despite his rather careless lifestyle, because that's his baby brother. Failure is not an option.

 

* * *

 

He thinks he lingers on a blink, because when he opens his eyes again, he's standing in Anders' kitchen with Michele snapping her fingers in his face. She looks irritated and, strangely enough, worried, her mouth set in an anxious little pucker that makes Mike's heart stall in his chest.

"Anders?" he whispers, fearing the worst.

"He's fine," she says immediately, forcing a thin smile that does little to reassure him. "He's extremely weak and having some trouble breathing, but he should make a full recovery. The Stick worked like a charm."

Mike nods numbly, and Michele narrows her eyes at him. They stare at one another in silence until Ty shuffles into the room, looking tired.

"I washed the blood off of him and changed him into clean clothes," he says, a hollow note in his voice and a haunted look in his eyes. "He's sleeping now, but not very soundly. He keeps tossing around and whining like he's in pain."

"He shouldn't be hurting at all," Michele responds, pensive. "As far as I can tell, Yggdrasil completely healed his wounds."

Ty shrugs and sits on one of the bar stools situated on the other side of the kitchen's island. He's paler than usual and there's a strange twist to his lips.

"I dunno, but he sounds like he's in a lot of pain." He chews on his thumb for a moment before releasing a sigh from deep within his chest. "He cried for a little bit and kept asking for me, like he didn't know I was there. I tried to calm him down by talking to him, but that only made it worse. He just kept asking where I was. Axl too."

"He's probably just a little loopy from being healed," Michele reasons, but Mike can see a spark of concern flash briefly through her eyes. "I mean, he _was_ dead for a little bit. That's an extreme trauma on the body."

Ty only shrugs once more, looking down at the countertop and skimming his fingertips in random patterns across the polished granite. Mike hates to see his brother so upset.

"Anders will be fine, Ty," he says in a tone he hopes is comforting. It isn't, if the way the younger man visibly bristles is any indication.

"But what if he _isn't_?" Ty snaps, scrubbing a hand over his face with a roughness that does not suit him. "People can only take so much, Mike, and Anders has been to Hell and back more times that any of us know. I get that we like to ignore him and pretend he deserves everything he gets, but he _doesn't_ , okay? He just _doesn't_."

Mike presses his lips into a thin line. He has always tried his best to avoid speaking realistically about Anders because it reminds him of how badly he fucked up with him. Had he been around more or lifted a finger against their parents' abuse, Anders probably wouldn't be as messed up as he is. Maybe he would understand how the world really works instead of thinking it's just him against the universe.

"I know, Ty," he says lamely, but his brother only scoffs at him. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest."

"I'm not leaving him alone," Ty says with a stubborn resoluteness that Mike has not seen in him for a long time. "I think I've done enough of that."

"We all have," Mike reluctantly agrees, "but there's nothing you can do for him right now."

"Fine. I'm going to stay here, though."

Sighing, Mike relents. Judging by the way Ty crosses his arms over his chest and sets his mouth in a wicked slash, he's not going to be able to dissuade the kid. He thinks he may be too tired to even try.

"You can have the guest bedroom," he says, carding a hand through his hair. "I'll take the couch."

Ty eyes him suspiciously, as if searching his face for some sort of falsity, before he nods with finality. He stands stiffly and disappears into the hallway, a dark aura about him. His shoulders appear to bear the weight of the world, and he realizes that Anders' often look the same. They have since they were young.

"You okay?"

Michele studies him with shrewd eyes, and Mike produces a smile that she finds to be more of a grimace. He isn't okay, none of them are, but Anders is even less okay, and somehow that seems so much more significant than it ever has. He's acutely aware of his brother's vulnerability, and it's frightening to him in its unfamiliarity.

"I'm fine," he says, the go-to answer for all Johnson men when they are not fine.

"He survived, Mike," Michele reassures him, but he receives little comfort. He knows how large the gap can be between _surviving_ and _living_. "He's a little banged up, but he survived. He'll recover."

Mike nods to pacify her and she smiles, satisfied. She pulls him into a hug and allows him to just hold her for several long moments before she pulls away to press a kiss to his cheek. With her purse in one hand and Yggdrasil in the other, she shoots him a calculating glance, the one she uses when questioning a patient.

"Call me tomorrow when he wakes up. I want to keep an eye on that cough." Michele waits for him to nod before she heads for the door. "Goodnight, Mike. Try to get some rest."

Mike watches her go with an obscure look on his face.

 

* * *

 

Her footsteps have long faded into silence when he finally moves. He locks the door behind her and feeds Anders' fish before returning to the kitchen. He busies himself by washing the single bowl and spoon he finds in the sink, scrubbing with slow, methodical motions. He thinks these must be the dishes from Anders' breakfast, before everything went to shit.

He finds himself wondering what his brother's mornings are like. Does he wake up early or sleep for as long as he can before he's late for work? Does he eat cereal or oatmeal out of these bowls? Does he sing at the top of his lungs in the shower? Does he listen to music as he dresses, dancing for nobody but himself?

His eyes burn. Anders is supposed to be the one consistent thing in his life, the guy who he counts on to be a dick and nothing more. He doesn't want all these other things, the anguish and the scars and the _vulnerability_. It makes him feel things he never does for Anders, soft things, protective things. It's not right, because Anders is the most independent of them all, the one capable of surviving on his own, the black sheep expelled from the family. He shouldn't have to worry for Anders.

Sighing heavily, Mike dries the dishes and looks through the cupboards until he finds where they belong. He leans against the sink for several long moments before he steels his resolve and makes his way down the hallway to check on Anders. He's sure Ty looked in on him before he retreated to the guest room, but he thinks it may quell the overprotective instincts raging inside him to see Anders for himself.

Mike cracks open the door to Anders' bedroom and peeks inside. It's dark and quiet save for the faint rattling of Anders' breathing. His brother's hair is a mess of damp gold curls strewn across his pillow and his cheeks are flushed with fever. His pale lashes flutter as he dreams, and Mike's eyes are drawn from his face to the long pink scar drawn across his tender throat.

He's overwhelmed by a sudden sense of vertigo, and he has to grasp the doorframe with both hands to steady himself. Something cold curls low in his stomach, stirring up nausea, and he flees to the living room to keep his conflicting emotions at bay. He can't handle seeing Anders so helpless.

Feeling strangely sick, the eldest Johnson finds a spare pillow in the linen closet and sinks down onto the couch. He buries himself in the soft cushions and tries to convince himself that the ominous feeling that settles heavily in his gut is just stress. A shiver races up his spine, prompting him to pull down the blanket folded nearly over the back of the couch and drag it over his head, hiding his struggle from the world.

Mike closes his weary eyes and settles down for a sleepless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate prologues because they're always so short and that makes me anxious. :c


	2. Friday, July 12, 2013 10:36 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is very wrong with Anders and Mike calls a Thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [marigoldfaucet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/marigoldfaucet/pseuds/marigoldfaucet) who made my day with her lovely comment. If you're in the Hobbit fandom, I suggest you head on over there and check out her stuff.

The next morning, it is silent in the flat. Ty isn't sure if that's good or bad.

He shuffles into the living room with some apprehension on his face, but everything appears to be how he left it the night before. Michele is gone and Mike is seated on the couch, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. The television is on, but he's looking at the fish tank.

"Anybody check on Anders yet?" Ty asks, smiling briefly when Mike visibly startles.

"No," he replies, turning his attention to his brother. "He's been really quiet all morning, so Michele thought we shouldn't disturb him. He was tossing and turning throughout the night and he needs all the solid rest he can get."

"We're not concerned there's a reason for his being so quiet?" Ty slowly lowers himself onto the couch, looking worried. "He could be dead."

"He's not dead, Ty," Mike sighs. "He's just exhausted from everything that's gone down."

Ty flinches at the incident's mention, and Mike swallows a second sigh. He doesn't want to have to walk on eggshells around the subject, but it seems that Ty has developed a sudden sympathy for Anders. It's not necessarily a shock, as Ty has always been fair when regarding others, even Anders with his crude and insensitive persona. If anybody was going to defend Anders and protect him while he's down, he thinks it would be Ty.

They both sit in silence for several long, pregnant moments before Ty's nervous energy overflows and he all but leaps from the couch.

"I'm going to make sure he's doing alright." When Mike sends him a sharp look, he shrugs. "I'll try not to wake him up, but we'll have to soon anyway. He needs water and something to eat. Who knows when the last time he fed himself was."

Mike lets him go without a fight, and Ty's grateful. He tiptoes down the hall and stops in front of Anders' room, anxious despite this being his own kin. The door is cracked, and he pushes it further open to peer inside. It's dark, the blackout curtains drawn tight to keep the enthusiastic New Zealand sun from waking their ill brother.

He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until it forcibly explodes from his lungs.

There's a boy in Anders' bed, curled up on his side with his arms tucked beneath the pillow. His face is flushed, as if just coming out of a fever, but his breathing is soft and even. There's no sign of Anders anywhere.

"What the hell?" Ty exclaims, voice high.

His outburst catches the attention of Mike, who frowns deeply and hurries off the couch. He reaches his brother in record speed and pushes rudely past him, hoping he's not about to find Anders in a pool of his own blood. He doesn't think he'll be able to handle seeing that again.

However, it's not Anders' dead body he finds, but the sleeping form of a young boy, appearing to be barely into his teens. His white-blond hair is a mess of curls, and there's a spattering of copper freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He thinks there's something terribly familiar about the kid, and he swallows the knot that's suddenly formed in his throat.

"Anders." Mike looks shocked, and Ty turns to stare at him with a similar expression.

"What?"

"That's Anders," Mike says, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "I might not have been around much at this age, but I'd recognize him anywhere."

Ty returns his bewildered gaze to the unfamiliar teen, and something like realization dawns on him. He touches on his childhood memories, remembering with great fondness the way Anders smiled and laughed, the comforting smell of him. There's a significant pull deep, deep within him, telling him that this person is safe, that this person will love and protect him.

"You're right," he says numbly, and he thinks that he shouldn't be surprised because equally weird things have happened to them, but this isn't Axl being transformed into a woman. This is Anders aging backwards to a younger self, the one that smiled and laughed and didn't have to pretend like he wasn't falling apart and terrified every day of his life. This is the Anders he remembers with an overwhelming sense of adoration and trust.

"Fuck, I have to get Michele over here," Mike sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "We'll have to find out if this is Yggdrasil or a great big fuck-you from the universe." He pauses, looking flustered. "Sit with him, will you? I don't want him waking up alone in an unfamiliar place and freaking out. We can't know how much he'll remember."

Ty nods resolutely and sits down on the edge of the bed, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping boy resting upon it. He doesn't even twitch as the mattress dips, and Ty hopes he's only sleeping deeply and not unconscious for any health-related reasons. Anders has always been so much more prone to contracting maladies than his brothers.

The low murmur of Mike's voice reaches him, speaking quietly with Michele over the phone, and Ty takes the time to study Anders closely while they're alone. He's so very tiny, legs long and slender with ankles made thin from too few meals. His hands are small and his arms look incredibly frail, but Ty remembers how he would carry both Axl and himself when they were young with no genuine complaint. Then again, perhaps it _was_ hard for him and he only remained silent when he struggled for them, as guardians so often do.

Ty sighs and settles more comfortably on the bed next to Anders, leaning against the headboard. He knows that Axl is pissed, and he can empathize, but Anders isn't nearly as bad as their youngest brother believes. Sure, he's more liable to make mistakes than his other brothers are, but he's also the one who's suffered the most. He was abused his entire life and abandoned by every individual he ever considered family, save for the two people who were too young and helpless to survive without him.

But Anders never left them. Despite being so very young and all but genetically predestined to run away when times got tough, as all the role models in their family had, he stayed and raised them. He didn't have the resources or the experience, but he made it happen anyway because he wouldn't ever let them down by choice. Looking back now, Ty can't remember a time in which he felt alone or unloved when Anders was caring for them.

The realization makes his heart clench because he knows Anders _always_ feels that way and most likely always will. The others can't see it, as insensitive and self-absorbed as they are, but Ty thinks Anders isolates himself of his own volition. He's always been the black sheep, the outspoken one who refuses to take shit without a fight even if he knows he'll lose, but now that's _all_ he does. He pokes and prods until all the anger and frustration stretched taut between them snaps, and then he just lays down and accepts it. He's their very own volunteer lightning rod, always has been, and he doubts anyone besides himself has ever noticed.

Anders stirs at his side, little pink tongue darting out to wet his lips and jaw working briefly. His fingers twitch and flex, curling loosely into his palms before relaxing to unfurl, and Ty can't help but find the display incredibly endearing. A small mewl sounds from his chest, and he stretches slowly, nuzzling his nose into the pillow.

"Anders?" Ty whispers cautiously, scooting away to sit on the very edge of the mattress to give the lad space. "Can you hear me?"

"Ty, baby, go back to sleep. Ands is very tired," the blond murmurs, nuzzling his pillow more firmly.

Frowning, Ty grasps one slender shoulder and gives it a gentle shake, just enough to wake him. However, Anders remains still, having fallen into a deep sleep untouched by the outside world. Ty thinks that this is good, because he desperately needs the rest after a night of tossing and turning, but Anders isn't right, isn't what he's supposed to be, and that frightens him. He doesn't know what will happen when Anders is like this.

"She'll be here in twenty."

Ty startles and turns to see Mike standing in the doorway, looking pale and disturbed. He holds up his cell phone briefly and opens his mouth to say something else, but remains silent. His eyes never leave Anders.

"Are you okay?" Ty asks, concerned.

Mike shakes his head and takes a cautious step forward, as if worried Anders will spring up from his sleep and attack him.

"He hates me," the eldest Johnson says, voice pitched low with solemnity.

"What?"

"Anders. He hates me," Mike elaborates, finally removing his gaze from the boy to look at Ty instead. "He never forgave me for leaving you guys, you know. His anger faded over the years, but it never went away. He hated me when he was in his thirties, but it was even worse at this age."

"He doesn't hate you, Mike," Ty murmurs, but his brother only sighs. "He might have been angry when you took off, but he never _hated_ you."

"You were too young to see it." He looks down at his cell phone as he rolls it between his hands. "He used to do all sorts of crazy shit when he knew I was coming home. He changed the locks, screened my phone calls, kept tabs on me. He even punched me in the face when I had Rob help me break into the house. Shattered my nose."

"I didn't know about any of that," Ty exclaims, surprised, and Mike smiles faintly.

"As careless as he could be, he always took matters involving you two very seriously," he says, a note of nostalgia in his voice. "He was a total bear when it came to _his_ boys."

"Now _that_ I know about. I remember when I was fifteen and this jerk at school, Jimmy, pushed me when I wouldn't fight him," Ty says, and Mike listens closely, clinging to the childhood stories he missed out on. "I ended up breaking my arm from the fall and the principal had to call Anders." His mouth curves into a sudden grin. "He was a hurricane. He blasted past the secretary and into the principal's office and he just _exploded_. Tore every adult there a new one and threatened to sue if Jimmy didn't get expelled immediately."

"Did he?" Mike inquires curiously, and Ty's grin widens.

"He was only supposed to be suspended for a week, but you know Anders always gets his way."

They laugh for the first time in what feels like years, and it's good. It isn't long before they're both doubled over with tears at the corners of their eyes, and Anders never once stirs. Their belly laughs fade to hiccuping giggles, and they struggle to regain a healthy breathing pattern for several long minutes.

"I miss those days," Ty says, but Mike doesn't bother to nod in agreement because he doesn't. "Life was so much easier and we all weren't so fucked up."

Mike wants to protest and reflexively say that they're not _all_ fucked up, that _Anders_ is, but he doesn't because that's not entirely true. Anders slept with Gaia, Axl tried to murder his own brother, and Ty, alongside Mike himself, just let it all happen. Every one of them is fucked up in their own ways, even if they don't want to acknowledge it.

It's always been a reflex for them to blame Anders for everything, even if the situation doesn't call for it, and he's beginning to think that maybe that isn't the correct way to handle their problems. After all, they're adults. They should be able to take care of their own issues in a manner more healthy than this, and yet Anders, the one who they don't think of as responsible in any way, takes care of them in their places.

The duo listens to the soft breaths of their slumbering sibling, lost in their own thoughts, until the sound of the front door opening and closing breaks the silence. Michele appears in the doorway, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a sweater with a tote on her arm. Yggdrasil can be seen inside it.

Her eyes immediately go to Anders, and she looks properly shocked. Her mouth falls open as she approaches, and Mike thinks that he's a little proud of Anders because rarely is Michele ever struck silent. He enjoys it despite the gravity of the situation.

"This is _not_ what I was expecting," she breathes.

"I told you something happened to him," Mike says, holding his hands up.

"Yeah, but you didn't say _what_ ," Michele exclaims, shooting him a distinctly dirty look. "Why do you always have to be so mysterious? This shit is serious."

Mike only shrugs, and Michele immediately sets to work examining Anders by eye. When she spots nothing wrong with him superficially, she sets down her tote and pulls Yggdrasil out. She sets it aside and digs around until she finds her stethoscope and plugs the ear tips into place. Taking the bell, she begins by auscultating Anders' heart, then his lungs, and finally his gastrointestinal tract.

"Everything seems normal," the off-duty doctor hums, moving the stethoscope's diaphragm to Anders' wrist to take his pulse. "That rattle in his chest is gone, no odd heart sounds, pulse is resting." Folding up her stethoscope and replacing it in her tote, Michele shrugs. "He's completely healthy. There's nothing to suggest he's ever been anything else than what he is right now."

Mike and Ty exchange surprised looks.

"So we don't know what caused this?" the eldest Johnson asks.

"Chances are, it was Yggdrasil," Michele says. "That or the universe has suddenly developed a sense of humor."

"How long will he be like this?" Ty adds, looking anxious.

Michele only shrugs once more, and Mike sighs heavily.

"I'll call a Thing."

 

* * *

 

As expected, everybody picks up their phones except Axl. However, Mike is nothing if not stubborn, and he calls relentlessly. He leaves a message every time, using his best big brother voice hoping to invoke some sort of juvenile guilt from his youngest brother.

He finally receives an answer after the fifth call.

 _"Hey, you need to-"_ Axl begins angrily, but Mike cuts him off.

"We're having a Thing."

_"Mike, I-"_

"Whatever lie you're about to tell me, stow it," Mike snaps, quickly growing tired of his youngest brother's avoidance tactics. "You need to grow up and face your problems like an adult. If you're not here in twenty minutes, I'm going to hunt you down and _drag_ you here."

He hangs up before Axl has the chance to answer and tucks his cell phone back into his pocket. His shoulders are visibly tight with stress from the minute of interaction with Axl, and he knows exactly why. Axl tried to kill Anders, and everything is different because of it.

Michele watches him from the kitchen where she stands with Ty, and he offers her a reassuring smile to discourage any questions she may ask. She returns it, but he can tell she's not fooled. She looks ready to approach and pick at his defenses until he shares his feelings, but a knock at the door keeps her from doing so, much to Mike's relief.

Olaf and Ingrid file into the flat, followed by Dawn. The couple approaches Mike, while Dawn heads over to Ty and Michele to greet her boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek. She and Michele exchange pleasantries and start up a session of small talk while they wait.

"You sounded worried on the phone," Olaf says.

"I'm fine," Mike sighs, running both hands through his hair. "It's about Anders."

The oracles share a strange glance that Mike can't quite decipher, but they both appear high enough that they might not understand the implications of it themselves.

"How's he doing?" Olaf inquires, voice low.

"Is Axl coming?" Ingrid adds, and she shrugs when Mike shoots her an odd look. "Olaf told me what happened."

"She weaseled it out of me."

"He was tripping hard. I didn't even ask."

Mike waves his hands to interrupt their conversation and makes a series of shushing sounds until they fall silent.

"Axl should be here soon," he says, and a knock at the front door punctuates his statement. "Speak of the devil. Glad to see you made it."

"You threatened to drag me here if I didn't, so," Axl trails off as he closes the door behind himself, eyes darting around the room. "Where's Anders?"

"Let's get this Thing started," Mike deflects, waving everybody into the living room. "Take a seat, people."

When all gods, goddesses, and mortals are settled, Mike inhales a calming breath that most certainly does not calm him.

"So yesterday, there was a bit of an incident," he begins, and he has to glare at Olaf when the old man snorts loudly, making Axl flash an ugly grimace. "One thing led to another and somebody, who will not be named, pushed Anders and he cut his throat open."

"It was Axl," Ingrid stage whispers to Dawn, who frowns while everybody else glowers at the stoned woman.

"Long story short," Mike snaps, signaling for the intoxicated oracles to remain silent, "Anders died for a little bit and Michele had to bring him back with Yggdrasil. There were some side effects and now Anders is a kid again."

"Shit, I didn't know about that," Olaf remarks despite the glares burning into his skull.

"We just found out," Ty says. "He was thirty-four when we went to bed and seventeen when we woke up."

"How the hell does that even happen?" Dawn exclaims.

"Yggdrasil," Michele says by way of explanation. "It has a mind of its own."

"Could be the universe," Olaf wonders aloud, and Ingrid bobs her head in agreement. "There may be some sort of significance to Anders returning to a previous age."

"A lesson to learn?" Ty suggests, throwing a sidelong glance at Axl, who becomes immediately more sullen.

"I know I shouldn't have pushed him, okay?" he barks, but the bitter note in his voice suggests that he isn't particularly ready to repent. "What other lesson could there be?"

Olaf shrugs, ever helpful, and Axl scowls at him. The group breaks into conversation, their combined voices a low buzz as they exchange theories and ideas. Their murmurs cover up the sound of bare feet padding down the hallway, and so they all startle when a young voice interrupts them.

"What's everybody doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These idiots are a goddamn train wreck.


	3. Monday, January 30, 1995 7:09 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty makes it to school on time and Axl keeps Anders busy while he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for [ryuuri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuri/pseuds/ryuuri), who provided the cutest drawing of my humble little [Throwback Anders](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3598482). If you dig adorable fanart, head on over there and check out the gallery!

Anders is not a natural morning person, but having two boys to look after is good incentive to become one. Ty is very reliable when it comes to keeping track of time and knowing when he's supposed to be somewhere, but like any teenager, he needs some supervision and definite transportation. Even if Ty wasn't the responsible kid he is, there's the other sprog to look after, which once again brings him to mornings.

"Axl, sit down, please," Anders says, smiling amusedly when the child sheepishly slides back into his booster seat. "Good boy. What kind of oatmeal do you want?"

"'Anana!"

" _Ba_ nana, Axl."

"' _Anana_ , Ands!"

Rolling his eyes, Anders sets about preparing two bowls of oatmeal, one banana and one apple cinnamon. Axl watches him set the teakettle on the stove, kicking his legs and waving a fist in the air. He's clutching a yellow crayon, and Anders hopes he keeps ahold of it because he's had terribly luck with Axl throwing things at his head lately. He's trying to train the kid out of the fixation he's developed on his older brother's face, but it's a surprisingly hard habit to break. He can't count the number of times he's ended up with a crayon in his mouth or a curious finger in his eye.

The teakettle begins to squeal and Anders removes it from the stove. He stirs hot water into the bowls of dry oats and, when they're perfectly soft, adds a splash of skim milk to Axl's and a pinch of cinnamon to Ty's, just the way they like. He finds two spoons, one silver and one plastic, and waves Axl's bowl in front of him before he sets it down.

"Don't make a mess out of that," he says sternly, widening his eyes for effect.

Axl gives him a look that clearly says he will make a mess, and Anders returns it with one that promises many baths. The boy twists his lips into an angry little pucker before his hunger gets the best of him and he loses interest in the argument. He grabs the little plastic spoon Anders offers him and immediately begins to shovel oatmeal into his greedy mouth.

"Ands, I can't find my book!" Ty shouts from upstairs, followed closely by the sound of sneakers clomping down the stairs.

"It's down here on the couch," Anders replies, handing a sippy cup of milk to a whining Axl. "Now come get your breakfast, sprog!"

"I'm not a _sprog_."

"You are," Anders sings teasingly. "You're _my_ sprog and you always will be, even when you're eighty."

Ty makes a loud sound of disgust as he stomps into the kitchen, but there's a hint of color in his cheeks that suggests he's pleased with the loving remark. Anders grins, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling, and sets Ty's bowl of oatmeal on the table as the lad pours himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

While his charges inhale their breakfasts, one creating more of a mess than the other, Anders makes quick work of preparing Ty's lunch. He builds a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread, careful to avoid touching the nut product, and pops it into a container before washing his hands. He packs the sandwich in Ty's lunchbox alongside a baggie of baby carrots and an apple, plus a packet of fruit snacks as a treat. He scribbles an affectionate note on a sticky and sneaks it in last, as he does every day.

Ty finishes his breakfast first and heads to the living room to get his school gear. Axl waves his spoon, and Anders rolls his eyes before he leans down and allows Axl to feed him the last bite of his oatmeal. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat and crosses his eyes in exaggerated pleasure, causing the boy to flash a toothy grin. Anders returns it with one of his own as he sets the dirty dishes in the sink and lifts Axl from his booster seat.

"Time to get our shoes on," he says, and Axl races towards the door. "No running in the house!"

Anders follows the energetic three-year-old and grabs him before he can try to go outside without footwear. He crouches and pulls Axl closer to slide shoes on his eager feet, one at a time. Axl shifts restlessly until his laces are tied and dances around while Anders puts his own sneakers on.

Ty stands from his seat on the couch, dressed and ready. He grabs his backpack, straining beneath the weight of it, and throws it over one shoulder.

"Forgot my schedule!" Ty exclaims before racing back to his room.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Anders calls, hefting Axl into his arms and grabbing his stuffed rabbit from off the couch when prompted to. "We don't wanna be late for the first day like we were last year! Axl, don't drop Mr. Buns."

Ty stumbles down the stairs, shoelaces flailing and his backpack hanging off one shoulder. It's filled to bursting and two notebooks are threatening to fall out, but Anders quickly zips the pack closed before they have the chance.

"Your sneaker's untied, bud."

The teen groans loudly and drops his heavy backpack to tie his shoe while Anders grabs his keys and wallet. He waits for Ty to dart out the door before he secures it behind them. He hikes Axl up higher on his hip to unlocks the doors to his car, a clunky '89 Ford Escort he bought off a young university dropout defecting to Australia to go bush. It's a little worn with blue paint chipping off around the wheel wells, but it runs well and has enough room in the backseat to accommodate Axl's car seat, which is really all he needs from it. He doesn't travel much further than the school or the market anyway.

Ty races around to the passenger side while Anders pops open the back drivers door to load Axl into his car seat. He wrestles the squirming little body into place and quickly secures the harness before the wily sprog has a chance to wiggle out of it. He blows a raspberry across one round cheek, making Axl squeal and kick his legs excitedly.

Anders tests the harness to make sure it's properly fastened, and when it doesn't unlock, he's satisfied. He takes a hit to the face from Mr. Buns and sticks his tongue out at a gleefully giggling Axl as he slides out of the backseat. He kicks the door closed and hops behind the wheel, sorting through his keys and starting the car.

"Seatbelts," he says, and Ty quickly fastens his.

Shifting into drive, Anders pulls the car out of the driveway. He turns on the radio and they all sing along with Rednex as they roll down the road. They make it through seven more songs before they reach the school and Anders turns the radio down as he comes to a stop in the drop-off zone. He puts the car in park and Ty pops his door open, excited to get back to his friends, who Anders can see crowded by the school entrance several yards away.

"I love you!" Anders sings sweetly.

Ty mutters something in return and throws one leg out of the car. His sneaker just hits the pavement when Anders grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back into his seat. He whines and reluctantly obeys, pouting.

"Ands!"

"I _love_ you, Tyrone," he repeats sternly, and Ty slumps.

"Love you too," the teen moans, squirming away in embarrassment. "Can I go now, _please_?"

"Yes," Anders says with a wide grin, satisfied. "Have a good first day!"

Ty scrambles out of the car and kicks the door closed behind him. He waves farewell before he races off to meet with his friends by the front doors, and Anders waits until he's safety inside the building before he shifts the car into drive and turns onto the road.

"What should we do today, my precious?" he inquires, glancing at Axl in the rearview mirror.

"Color!" Axl exclaims, waving Mr. Buns at him.

 

* * *

 

They scribble in coloring books together until lunchtime. Anders makes sandwiches and slices up an apple to share with chocolate pudding cups for dessert. Afterwards, he puts Axl down for his afternoon nap and washes the dishes while the child sleeps.

The house is quiet when he puts away the last plate. He takes advantage of the temporary lull in activity to pore over his textbooks and schoolwork. Because Axl only attends playcentre three days a week, Anders had taken to homeschooling himself several years back in order to look after his youngest brother. It's not legal in any way, but his curriculum is registered in his mother's name and he hasn't exactly made it known to the school system that she buggered off to become a tree, so he simply continues to sign in her place.

Settling on the couch next to a softly snoring Axl, Anders opens his chemistry textbook and moves only to smile when one tiny hand reaches out to hold onto his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Anders has a mandatory two-hour quiet time that may be used for napping or calm activities, so when Axl wakes before his two hours are up, he gives the child a picture book and has him read. Anders splits his attention between watching Axl and calculating the pH of various aqueous solutions, enjoying the peaceful silence. By the time he finishes his homework and Axl his book, it's 2:30 and chaos may reign once again.

"Alright, bud, quiet time's over," Anders says, and Axl instantly loses interest in reading and races upstairs for his toys.

Laughing, Anders follows and playfully swats the child's behind to make him squeal as he scrambles up the steps. He swoops Axl up in his arms and swings the squirming body over his shoulder, holding him by the ankles. Axl shrieks with laughter and begins smacking Anders' own backside in retaliation.

" _Ow_ , you little brat!" Anders laughs and promptly drops Axl onto his twin bed.

"Ands!" Axl exclaims, grinning as he tries to escape his brother's grasp.

Anders spanks him again before he releases the lad. Axl races away, giggling, and retrieves a bucket of Lego bricks from beside his toy box before he hurries back down the stairs.

"Don't make a mess with those," Anders calls after him, but he only receives a shout of vague reassurance in return. "If I step on a single Lego, you're not getting dessert tonight!"

With blond curls bouncing, the young guardian shakes his head in amusement and sets about collecting the laundry. He grabs Axl's little blue hamper and goes across the hall to empty it into Ty's larger one before returning it to its rightful place. He checks beneath both boys' beds for runaway socks and finds several mismatched pairs that end up in the hamper as well.

Anders hefts up the basket and rests it on his hip before heading back downstairs and to the small laundry room off the kitchen. He drops the hamper and turns on the washer, letting it start filling while he makes quick work of sorting the clothes. He pours a cap of soap into the drum and tosses in a healthy number of shirts and pairs of jeans.

"Ands!"

"Hang on, Axl!" he responds, pulling a load of clean towels out of the dryer.

He means to fold the towels when he walks into the living room, but Axl grabs him by the belt loops and pulls him onto the floor where they spend the next hour building Lego houses.

 

* * *

 

Anders loads Axl into the car for a second time and they return to the school to pick up Ty. They find him waiting in the drop-off zone where they last left him, and this ride is spent singing and dancing in their seats, just like the first.

When they arrive at home, Anders carries Axl in while Ty hauls his overpacked bag. It ends up on top of the shoes by the door, too heavy to haul upstairs in that moment, and Ty flops down onto the couch. Anders smiles at the heavy sigh he produces and sets Axl on the floor where their Lego town stands.

"How was your first day of secondary school?" the blond inquires as he looks through the fridge.

"Long," Ty replies, rolling off the couch to sit at the kitchen table instead. "I like all my classes, though."

"That's great, kiddo. What do you want for dinner?"

"Spaghetti?"

"S'ghetti!" Axl parrots in the living room.

Anders laughs and begins to collect the necessary ingredients.

"Spaghetti is it, then," he says, setting aside a pound of hamburger. "Go keep an eye on the munchkin while I cook. I don't want him choking on a Lego brick."

 

* * *

 

Dinner is spent going over their days. Ty talks about his teachers and the cute girl who sits next to him in history, earning an excited sound from Anders. Axl talks about Mr. Buns and brags about the pudding he got with his lunch, to which Ty replies with an eye-roll because Axl doesn't understand that he isn't the only one Anders gives pudding cups to.

They do the dishes together, though Axl is very little help and mostly just acts as a weight against Anders' legs. He hangs off Anders' belt loops, as he has always done, and talks to Mr. Buns until the kitchen is clean and they relocate to the living room.

"Why don't you go pick a movie, Axl?" Anders says, taking a seat on the couch.

"Homework?" Axl inquires for Ty's sake, though he still scrambles for their VHS collection.

"No homework on the first day, bud."

Axl takes a full five minutes before Anders begins making suggestions to speed up the process. The boy finally settles on _The Lion King_ and pushes the tape into the player before clambering up onto the couch. He tucks himself into Anders' side, his little arms wrapped around his brother's waist, and sighs happily. Anders grins and pulls Ty into his other side, content with his two boys.

 

* * *

 

Ty makes it through the movie, but Axl falls asleep halfway through.

"Go get ready for bed," Anders whispers, gathering Axl into his arms. "I'll take care of this one after I lock up."

He goes about his regular routine of checking all the doors and windows, then outside to see if Mike has decided to return. When he's satisfied the house is secure, he shuts off all the lights on the first floor and heads upstairs. He passes his own room, then Ty's, and turns into Axl's.

"Alright, let's get you in your jammies," he murmurs, flipping on the light.

Anders rouses Axl just enough to get him out of his clothes and into a clean pair of pajamas. He has to wrestle the kid a bit, but in the end he gets Axl into a space-themed t-shirt with matching bottoms.

"Ands," Axl moans, but he goes quickly quiet when Anders begins to rock him gently.

Anders lays the child in bed and places Mr. Buns in his arms. He pulls the blanket up and tucks it securely around Axl's shoulders, blue eyes going soft as he gazes down at childish features.

"Love you, Ands," Axl murmurs, eyelids already falling closed.

"I love you too," Anders returns as he plants a kiss on the boy's cheek. When Axl holds up his rabbit, he smiles and kisses the stuffed animal's head as well. "And of course I love Mr. Buns."

Axl smiles sleepily and Anders' heart throbs. Everybody else has left, but he will never let these boys go.

After checking that both Axl and Mr. Buns are properly tucked in, Anders turns on the nightlight and leaves the door cracked. He peeks into Ty's room next to find the fourteen-year-old packing up his school stuff for the next day. He glances up and smiles when he notices Anders in the doorway.

"Going to bed?"

"Yup," Anders replies, pushing the door open. "Come gimme a hug, kid."

Ty sets his bag by his desk and dutifully allows Anders to pull him into a tight embrace. He wraps his arms around Anders' waist and squeezes him in return, relishing the comfortingly familiar scent of his older brother. When Anders releases him after a long moment, Ty doesn't mention the sudden sentimentality he feels.

"I love you, bud," Anders says, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Love you too."

Anders smiles softly at him and turns down the hall to his own bedroom. He leaves his door door cracked in case he's needed and heads into the small attached bathroom. He turns on the shower and checks that his towels aren't filthy before he strips out of his clothes and steps beneath the warm spray.

 

* * *

 

There's no children waiting for him when he leaves the bathroom. He often finds Axl in his bed, and even Ty on some occasions. He thinks that he shouldn't allow them to sleep with him as often as they do, especially Axl, but ever since Mike started up with his disappearing acts and their mother never came home, they've both been weird about letting him go. He knows they cling to him because he's the only thing they have left, and that breaks his heart.

Anders pulls on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt to cover his damp skin between scrubbing a towel over his wild blond hair. He tosses the dirty laundry into his hamper and flicks off the light before falling into bed. He just lays there for several moments before he manages to drag himself up to rest his head on his pillows and pull the blankets over his shoulders.

He's just about to drop off into sleep when he hears rapid footsteps racing down the hall. He cracks his eyes open to watch a small shadow toddle into his room, hurrying towards him. There's a few moments of stillness before chubby hands appear at the very edge of his mattress, clinging to the blankets and tugging uselessly at them. Anders smiles and watches as Axl struggles to pull himself up and into bed with him, a string of angry little grunts expressing his frustration.

"Hey, babe," he murmurs, running a fingertip over the tiny knuckles of one hand. "What's going on?"

"Ands," is all Axl says, but he understands.

Leaning over the side of his bed, Anders lifts Axl onto the mattress and pulls the blankets over him. He settles back onto his side and allows Axl to crawl into his open arms, laughing softly as he flops down heavily and squirms around until he's surrounded by his brother's comforting embrace. Axl fists his hands into the threadbare cotton of Anders' shirt and tucks his face into the hollow of his throat, inhaling the soothing scent he finds there.

Anders rubs Axl's back slowly, rhythmically, until the boy is a boneless bundle of warmth in his arms. He smiles sweetly and brushes away a few unruly curls to press a lingering kiss to Axl's soft forehead. He strokes his thumb across the child's brow and simply looks at him, studying the features he's long since memorized.

"Ands loves you," he whispers.

Axl nuzzles his neck and Anders sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to mention a few things in the last chapter, but I completely forgot. Thanks to [marigoldfaucet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/marigoldfaucet/pseuds/marigoldfaucet) for reminding me. ;3;
> 
> First off, I know Dawn is here sooner than she is supposed be, but there's a reason behind that. I let her in on all the fun godly shit early because Throwback Anders is going to significantly develop their relationship. Also keep in mind that, because this is an alternate universe, you may be able to spot some moments of canon divergence (you smart cookie, you), but chances are there's a reason they exist and I promise it'll all come together when the time is right.
> 
> Second, since one of the primary elements of this is time, I've built my own timeline. I believe it's actually fairly accurate in terms of falling in with canon ages and whatnot considering we don't actually know the exact birthdays of the Johnson boys. If one of you happens to be the creator of TAJ and you have beef with my ages and dates, kudos for doing all that math and let me know how off I am.
> 
> Third, remember to keep an eye on the dates! They're not vital knowledge, but I worked hard on this timeline. c;


	4. Friday, July 12, 2013 4:47 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike almost forgot how it feels to be truly hated by someone he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha you guys I'm such a pos like for real

When Anders wakes, his arms are empty and his bed is cold. The pillow beneath his head is softer than he remembers and the comforter wrapped snugly around him is much thicker than his old, worn blanket that has lost half its down after years of use. This isn't his bed, he knows, and when he opens his tired eyes, he finds that this isn't his room either. He's not even wearing his own damn clothes, but some other bloke's oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Anders bolts upright, alarmed, and immediately looks around for signs of either Ty or Axl. There is none, but as he slides out of the large, plush bed upon which he lays, he detects the low murmur of voices coming from behind the bedroom door. He wants to investigate the room first, perhaps locate a weapon of some sort, but his instincts are screaming to find the children and secure them before he does anything else.

He stalks over to the bedroom door and peeks through the crack. All he can see is the bathroom across the hall and an open door further down, but the voices are more clear now. He slips out of the bedroom and pads down the hall, a cocktail of fear and worry bubbling up in his belly. He hopes he isn't about to walk into a paedophile clubhouse or illegal gambling den like on _Law & Order_. He loves the show, but it gives him ideas.

Taking a deep breath, Anders steps out of the hallway and into what appears to be a joint kitchen and living room. This area is equally as fine as the bedroom, painted and decorated in clean greys and whites with small splashes of bright colors here and there. A large fish tank stands on one wall, home to many happy fish that swim energetically about, and he is almost immediately soothed just looking at them. He thinks of his own fish at home and feels a pang of longing.

Occupying the room is a collection of people he either easily identifies or cannot even begin to. He spots Olaf first, perched on the arm of the couch and looking the same as always. Next to him are a trio of women, though he can't say their faces bring any names to mind. Standing in front of the group are three men he instantly recognizes. He's surprised to find that two of them wear the faces of his sprogs, though their features are much more refined, having lost the juvenile softness of their cheeks and brows. He immediately senses that some sort of god business has taken place here, but he isn't entirely sure how to handle the situation. Nothing like this has ever happened in their home before.

"What's everybody doing?" he inquires, smiling slightly when the room startles collectively.

All eyes turn to him, but his own flick between Ty and Axl, who shift uncomfortably beneath his shrewd gaze. They both avoid his and raise defenses that Anders is very familiar with - Axl crosses his arms over his chest and hunches his shoulders while Ty begins to chew on the nails of his right hand.

"Tyrone Johnson, quit biting your nails," Anders scolds by instinct alone. "You know better than that."

Eyes around the room widen and Ty instantly drops his arm to his side. Anders thinks it's strange they're all apparently stunned, not that he isn't in a similar state. He has woken up in a completely different place than when he fell asleep and is staring into the faces of his inexplicably grown children. They don't have the right to be more shocked than him.

"You all look like you've seen a ghost," he remarks, studying them closely.

"You know who we are?" Axl blurts, surprised.

"Of course," Anders says, his blue eyes softening with affection. "How could I not recognize my own boys? You're a little bigger than I remember, though."

Both Axl and Ty look away, wearing familiar expressions of embarrassment over their blushes. Anders smiles and approaches the group, though not without a reasonable amount of caution. While he feels a desperate need to be near his brothers, he knows to be wary of strangers and foreign environments.

"Anders," the man at Axl's side murmurs timidly, and his pleasant demeanor disappears between one second and the next.

"Mikkel," he greets curtly, narrowing his eyes into a piercing glare that sets the entire room on edge.

Mike cringes and opens his mouth to respond, perhaps soothe the beast, but Anders doesn't allow him to. He doesn't want to hear whatever excuse the wanker has to offer because it will only serve to make him more angry. No matter what has taken place here, time travel or _whatever_ , he will never forgive and forget, even when he's six feet in the ground.

"Do you have anything to drink around here?" Anders asks coldly, stalking into the kitchen. "My throat is really dry."

He feels their stares burning into his back as he rummages around the fridge, but they're easily ignored. He finds a carton of orange juice and digs through the cupboards next in search of a glass. He grabs for a stoneware mug and fills it to the brim before guzzling it down, soothing his parched throat. He refills the mug and replaces the carton in the fridge before he walks over to Olaf and tucks himself beneath the old man's comfortingly familiar arm.

"Now, what's happened here?" he asks finally, cradling his mug.

Everybody in the room cringes and Anders almost smiles. Olaf's arm tightens around him for a moment before relaxing, and the thick callouses of his fingers send a shiver down Anders' spine as they stroke his upper arm lightly. He senses that they think he needs comfort, but he can see that they need it much more than he does. He's perfectly at ease, though he would be happier if he wasn't standing across from Mike, the number one irritant in his life.

"There was an incident," Mike says slowly, to which Anders responds with an eye-roll.

"No shit, Sherlock," he responds morosely. "I'm standing here in some random bloke's flat with a bunch of strangers and my kids all grown up. I figured there might be _something_ wrong."

Mike fidgets at the icy response and Olaf takes pity on him.

"How about we get some dinner first?" he suggests, squeezing Anders to his side. "Then we'll sit down and have a talk."

 

* * *

 

They don't mean for it to happen, but Anders ends up cooking. He quickly learns how to navigate the cupboards and manages to concoct a complete meal out of the limited food items he finds in the kitchen. It's quite amazing to watch, the fluidity with which the young man moves, as if he isn't completely out of his own time. They're breathless.

"So," Anders says when chicken breasts are baking and wild rice is simmering alongside a pot of green beans. He hops up to sit on the kitchen counter and sets aside his anger to smile at those he doesn't recognize. "I'm Anders, but I have a feeling you already know that."

Despite the previous tension, the women smile in return. There's no doubt that Anders is enchanting, but Mike knows from experience that he has always been like that, even when he was very young. He was charming treats out of the neighborhood biddies before his third birthday.

They go around the kitchen making introductions, each of which Anders accepts with an amiable smile that they rarely see in his older self. The women are a bit starstruck, taken by his relaxed demeanor. Coupled with his sweetly freckled face and delicate white-blond curls, this Anders is a completely different experience than what they're used to. There's a world on his shoulders and ice in his teeth, but it's still nothing like the cracked and weathered mask they're usually faced with.

Olaf stands against the counter next to him as Anders leans over to fluff the rice resting on the stovetop. He settles a hand over Anders', prodding his slender fingers as if he isn't entirely surely the boy is really there. Anders notices the old man's fascination and pats his big hand, used to the drug-induced antics as all Johnsons are.

"Let's talk _now_ ," he says, holding Olaf's gaze to keep his attention. "My curiosity is driving me crazy."

Producing a thoughtful hum, Olaf taps the tip of Anders' nose with one finger, earning a sound of protest. He moves to lean against the kitchen island, standing across from Anders with the others crowded around them, trying to appear as nonintrusive as possible.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Olaf inquires, looking suddenly sober.

Anders casts him a strange glance and curls his hands around the edge of the counter. He swings his bare legs and taps his heels against the cupboards beneath him, the tanned skin prickling with goosebumps. The flat is not cold by any means, but he is without his baby boys.

"What is this, a police investigation?" he says, blue eyes narrowing slightly with his bemused smile. "Nothing strange happened yesterday, if that's what you're asking. I fell asleep in my own bed and woke up in someone else's."

"What about a date?"

"January 30, 1995. Ty's first day of secondary school. We actually made it on time this year."

"Something always came up to make us late," Ty adds, smiling despite himself.

Anders looks at him with gentle eyes, and Ty's heart warms at the familiar expression. They've all spent so much time fighting and hating that he forgot what family looks like.

"It's 2013," Olaf admits, raising his eyebrows in curiosity when Anders only bobs his head. "You don't seem surprised."

"I have two god sprogs," Anders says with an amused smile. " _Nothing_ surprises me anymore."

Ty and Axl both flush, recalling many instances in which they have been caught doing things they shouldn't have doing in the first place. It somehow makes it more embarrassing that Anders handled it all so well throughout the years and held onto the stories for future reference.

"So, how did I get here?" Anders asks, running a hand through his thick, unruly curls. "What happened?"

Olaf glances at the other Johnson boys, a spark passing between them. It doesn't need to be spoken aloud that they don't want Anders to know about the whole incident with Axl. To find out that his youngest charge tried and briefly succeeded in murdering him, however indirectly, would crush the volatile teen.

Anders, easily picking up on the sudden electricity in the air, narrows his eyes and stares them down with a relentless kind of determination. He's clearly attempting to decipher the obscure glance Olaf traded with his brothers, but they all avoid his searching gaze.

"You know about as much as we do," Olaf lies, more immune to Anders' glare with the blanket of marijuana smoke wrapped around his brain.

Anders frowns at the poor explanation, but reluctantly lets the issue go. He always gets his way in the end, even if he has to find an alternate route. There's plenty of opportunities for enlightenment here, he thinks as he slides off the counter to remove the chicken breasts from the oven.

"Food's done," he says. "Grab a plate, people."

 

* * *

 

Mike stalls until the others have made their plates and congregated in the living room for smalltalk. He watches Anders graze from the pot of green beans for several long moments until he decides he's not going to receive any acknowledgement. He looks instead at Anders' hands, observing the way they move so confidently, so different from his own in this moment. He hates what Anders does to him.

"I know you're lying to me."

Mike glances up in surprise, meeting Anders' smoldering blue eyes. There's that anger, that righteous fury kindled by years of abuse and abandonment. It's always been there, festering just beneath tender white skin, but it's so new now, so young and restless and burning out of control just like Anders.

"What are you talking about?" he asks in a poor attempt to deflect the question. He doesn't want to be the one to explain this.

"Cut the theatrics, Mikkel," Anders snaps, indignation growing. "Something happened, god shit or otherwise, to get me sent here and you refuse to tell me. Why is that?"

"There's nothing going on, Anders."

"Don't play with me, Mikkel."

"I'm not!" Mike growls, losing patience. " _You're_ the one playing with _me_. You fuck me over every chance you get."

"You see, Mike, this is so _typical_ ," Anders says, raising a splayed hand in exasperation. "Nothing is ever about _us_. It always has to be _you_."

Mike pales and presses his lips into a thin line.

"That's not true," he responds, voice pitched low.

"Really?" Anders exclaims, incredulous. " _Really_ , Mike? Then enlighten me, _please_. Explain to me how everything you've done was for _us_ , how your abandoning the family was for _our_ own good."

"I did my best with-"

"With _who_? With the boys? With _me_?"

Anders sets his mouth in a contemptuous snarl and makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Mike almost cringes at the look in those big blue eyes, the scorn and the resentment that he hasn't seen brandished so violently in some time. Of course there have been bursts of it every now and again, when he was a little to harsh on one of the younger boys, but never in a continuous streak, not in years.

He doesn't know what to say. There's never been a way to quell Anders' rage, no matter his age. He's a force of nature with the strength of a hurricane and the temper of a volcano. Mike has lost control of the conversation and there's nothing he can do but go with the flow. Anders has always had a way of commanding any situation.

"Tell me what's going on."

"I just-I don't think you'll like it," is the only argument he manages.

"There's a lot of things I don't like," Anders retaliates, shooting him a pointed glare. "Good thing I'm a fucking _adult_ who can deal with them."

"You're _seventeen_ , Anders," Mike sighs, unable to hide the _I'm your big brother, submit to me_ implication in his voice.

Anders' laugh is a sharp, sardonic thing that makes Mike cringe.

"Fuck you," he says, smiling grimly. "Someone in our house had to be an adult and it sure as hell wasn't gonna be you or Mum."

Mike looks away, unable to face his brother's accusing glare, unable to face the truth. He's loath to admit it, but he has never been good at confronting his wrongdoings. Johnsons are all but genetically predestined to run away from their problems, and he gave into that urge long ago. It has never haunted him quite as it does now.

Anders sneers, knowing he has won.

"I'm going to find out," he hisses menacingly. "One way or another, I'm going to find out because I need to get back to the boys. You sure you don't wanna tell me?"

He wants to tell him. He wants to spill the whole goddamn story just to prove Anders wrong, even though he's right. He doesn't _like_ being the one Anders hates, the one Anders can rightfully put all the blame on, but he has to. He's never done right by Anders, but he has the opportunity to right now by sparing him the pain of knowing what the loving relationship he built with his youngest charge has become.

"Nothing's going on."

Anders smiles coldly and brushes past him.

Mike aches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> diD I ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING HERE?!???!! DOES THIS MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE????

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["What's everybody doing?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598482) by [ryuuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuri/pseuds/ryuuri)
  * [Little Sprog and Mr. Buns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651342) by [ryuuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuri/pseuds/ryuuri)




End file.
